


Procrastination

by Artemis_Dreamer



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Crack, Established Relationship, FrostIron - Freeform, Humor, M/M, Pre-smut, Romance-ish, Snippet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 21:23:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/996862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Dreamer/pseuds/Artemis_Dreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tony has a call to make, but Loki's being Loki... that is to say, irresistible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Procrastination

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE UNDERSTAND:
> 
> Okay, so this was originally written as part of a larger work, but it was essentially abandoned due to a lack of muse.
> 
> This was really the only part worth salvaging, so here it is for your enjoyment - I tried to add sufficient context for the scene to make sense, but it's still just a snippet.
> 
> Proceed.

Six months, battling through the depths of Nilfheim, searching desperately for any hope of escape. Six months, during which Tony Stark and the trickster Loki had been alone together with only one-another to rely on. 

Six months that had featured obscene violence and dozens of near-death experiences.

Yet, something had formed between the unlikely pair during those six months. It had begun with sex, transitioned through cuddling, and moved on into genuine bonding. They might even have been willing to call it “love”.

(Though it was still mainly sex.)

Now, the chaotic and lustful couple had at last made their escape – back on Midgard, in Tony’s luxurious Malibu mansion, together. 

\---

They had a certain call to make. 

“So, I figure we should tell the team that I’m back.”

“We? You expect to involve me in this, Stark?” Loki inquired dangerously.

“Look, Lokes. We’ve been fucking for six months. I’m pretty sure you’re obligated to be a part of this.” Tony wore the sternest expression that he could muster when faced with an aggravated trickster.

“I suppose,” the chaos god huffed. “At very least allow me to stage this menial conversation.”

“Stage-?” Stark began to ask a question, but it was answered for him as a wave of Loki’s hand caused a massive, elaborately decorated golden throne to materialize where his suede sofa had been.

(He damn well hoped that he was getting that back.)

“We will sit in a manner befitting our status, Anthony. After all, we are the crowned kings of Nilfheim.” The god’s tone was suitably smug.

(That statement could be explained, but it was a particularly long story involving several wars, an iron crown, and a decidedly unfair duel to the death.) 

“There’s only one throne, Lo.” The billionaire pointed out the obvious.

“Oh for the loathing of Odin,” the god groaned. “Are mortals really so incapable of understanding the concept of sharing?”

“…oh.” Tony replied, a small and decidedly embarrassed sound. He was supposed to be a GENIUS, dammit. Then, recovering swiftly, he quirked a suggestive eyebrow.

“You’re not so subtle with your ulterior motives today, are you Lokes?” He knew that there was only one reason why his greedy and possessive lover would share any throne, and that that reason involved far fewer clothes and far more arousal.

“Perhaps not subtle enough to evade your heightened sense for the sensual.” Then, Loki restrained his desires with a short sigh. “However, did you not insist that you were to inform your pathetic companions?”

Cue Tony’s puppy-dog eyes, and I whine of ‘do I have to?’.

“ANTHONY.” A stern tone, which brooked no argument on pain of sexual deprivation. 

“Fine,” the genius groused.

Settling himself upon the throne, appearing every inch the monarch in his gleaming armor, Loki motioned to his lover. Join me.

Stretching as expansively as he could within the confines of the Iron Man suit (sans helmet), the billionaire swaggered over and settled across the trickster’s lap with a smirk.

The throne was plenty big enough for two, but Tony was Tony, and he wanted as much close contact as possible with his gorgeous god.

Loki wriggled lightly in protest, and then gave a resigned nod. There were far worse things than having a charismatic and insatiable billionaire on one’s lap. 

“You called the team “pathetic”.” Tony began, wary of setting off the mischief-maker’s volatile temper, but still deeply curious. “Were you being serious?” 

“The team you speak of is comprised of mortals, and my idiot adoptive brother. Of course they are pathetic – incredibly so.”

“I’m pretty sure that I’m also mortal,” the billionaire pointed out, rather wounded.

“I have fought alongside you for six months. Had you truly been as weak as an average mortal, I would have killed you myself – I do NOT tolerate weakness. No, Anthony, you are far superior to any of your teammates.”

Tony smirked, ego boosted by having his sheer awesomeness acknowledged by a god. (As if his vast ego had ever required a boost.)

He paused for a long moment, relaxing against his lover’s chest in a haven safer than any square inch of the realm of Nilfheim had ever been. 

“So,” the trickster inquired. “Do you intend to make this call?”

Tony gave a light shrug, tilting his head back to get a good view of Loki’s pale and perfect face. 

The trickster ran his hand through the inventor’s hair, fingers automatically massaging slow circles across the other man’s scalp – just the way his lover enjoyed it. One of the glorious moans that Loki so craved emanated from said lover’s lips, as his fingers kneaded the sensitive skin behind the billionaire’s left ear.

The god’s free hand reached down towards Anthony’s groin, before withdrawing as he realized that Tony was still clad in heavy armor. 

“What do you say-“

“-that we call the Mouseketeers some other time?”

“Indeed.”

Loki’s magic thrummed around Anthony as it stripped away the layer of armor plating, which proceeded to neatly pile itself in the corner of the room; he also removed his own helmet, which was sent to join his lover’s armor.

Then, that long-fingered had made its way back down to the billionaire’s groin, caressing a length that was already half-hardened and growing harder by the second.

(The genius was always, ALWAYS up for a few long rounds.)

“Ngh. Loki.” Tony groaned blissfully, the contact sending a thrill of pleasure through his body. Only Loki’s skilled touch could reduce him so easily to a boneless heap of desire, and it goes without saying that the trickster exploited that power mercilessly. 

Smirking as he heard his name from his lover’s lips, the god of mischief craned his neck forward to press a firm kiss to said plush lips. 

Anthony immediately and wantonly nibbled Loki’s lip for entrance, and was welcomed within – he explored every inch of the warm cavern as the kiss rapidly became a desperate dance of darting tongues. 

A heady and utterly breathless kiss, one that tasted of molten gold and motor oil.

The god suppressed a whimper as Tony drew away for breath. It wasn’t dignified behavior for a deity to be so easily swayed by a mortal’s lips, but that man’s kisses drove him absolutely crazy with need.

Both men were achingly aroused by now, and as their eyes met again, they shared a thought without any telepathy whatsoever. Bed, now.

The couple rose from their throne, bodies intertwined, and stumbled across the living space towards the luxurious bedroom – a trail of discarded articles of clothing formed in their wake.

\---

“Anthony…” Loki purred, as he collapsed onto the bed with his lover in his arms.

“Yeah, gorgeous?” Tony was curious; the trickster wasn’t that talkative during (or even before) sex, as he was usually too busy moaning and screaming with vocal pleasure. 

“I- I command you. Fuck me, mortal. Pleasure your one true god.” 

Loki’s expression was needy and demanding as he panted out these words; he wanted, and it was obvious that he wanted badly. That, and he knew how much his imperious act turned the billionaire on.

Tony had neither the willpower nor the reason to deny his personal deity. “Since you asked,” he smirked, shamelessly wearing his I’m-going-to-fuck-you-into-the-mattress expression. 

Loki gave a smirk in return, his own not-until-I’ve-made-you-beg-for-mercy-twice expression glinting in his lust-darkened eyes. 

It was ON.

\---

From there on out, the rest of the day and the night that followed devolved into a marathon session of passionate sex. It was wonderful to be able to fuck one’s lover without having to keep an eye out for rampaging monsters, and a feather bed was far, FAR more luxurious than a cave floor. 

This was everything that they had been aching for, and it exceeded even their wildest imaginings of how utterly pleasurable their love could become. 

No distractions meant absolute bliss. 

They didn’t call the team that day, or any day that week. They spent most of that week in the bedroom, napping, cuddling, and having sex (but mostly having sex).

This was the culmination of six inglorious months, and it was completely and utterly perfect.

Smut, anyone?

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not totally back yet, but I'm getting there. Here's something to tide you over.
> 
> Your feedback is appreciated as always - please tell me what you thought.
> 
> (And PLEASE tell me if this needs a higher rating - I wasn't sure.)


End file.
